Chaori Awakens
'Infirmary ' ---- :The moans of wounded and the coppery smell of blood frequent this chamber in equal measure. Nearly as expansive as the main hall from which it branched and twice as wide, this ward for the wounded can hold easily two dozen men comfortably at a time. Comfort being a relative term for the injured, of course. :Twelve sturdy cots line each length. Each cot is raised from the ground no more than two feet, just enough space to easily slide a chamber pot in and out. Rust-colored sheets and thickly woven blankets drape over the beds. In efforts to place these practical, stain-hiding dressings into a warm color scheme, earthen-toned tapestries have been hung from the walls. Thin rugs of a rich, clay color stripe down the center walkway. :A hearth is set into the wall opposite the doors. Pails sit in waiting on either side, ready to either deliver hot stone or water to those who have need for it. Hung above the flame is a bundle of herbs, slowly burning its cleansing properties into the air. A hole in the lofted ceiling draws the smoke out to keep the air clear. Two windows, one facing east and one facing west, allow natural light to shine through during the day. The same pillars that kept the previous chamber erect act as mounts for candle sconces to dimly light the room at night. :A few crimson-cushioned chairs are scattered about, acting as perches for those who come to console their ailing loved ones. ---- Chaori Balsam is the only thing stirring in the Hall of Healing. Her restless movements don't detract from the peace here, since she's in a small bed in a quiet spot. "How long has it been since she's awoken?" questions a hushed murmur from the hall as the doors to the infirmary open and an assembly of legs shuffle through. The 12th hour by the shadow brings a rush of activity to the silent Hall of Healing as others in the realm sleep. Still donning her riding clothes, the royal healer boot-thumps gently over the stone floor. The intensity of her eyes fixate on their restless target, face shrouded yet by her cloak's hood. She'd remove it when her ears ceased their chilled burning of Shadowreach. "Chaoris Balsam," She addresses the woman gently but directly, ignoring for now the answer that the trailing healer gives her previous question. "Welcome again to the realm of the vigilant." Chaori Balsam feebly smiles up at the unknown healer. "Thank you," she says with a faint rasp. "I woke up in the middle of the afternoon, I'm told. How long was I unconscious? The nurse refused to tell me." "If you breached from your dreams this night...." ponders Rowena in a musing tone as she deftly reaches 'round her waist and unbuckles the blade's sheath. It is laid to rest on the empty cot before she reaches Chaori's bedside. "It has been o'er half a year's time. Not all hours of the day were spent sleeping, of course. You ate and drank the bit of things the healers gave you - stew and teas. But your eyes, ears, and tongue were clearly unresponsive. A trance, if you will." Chaori Balsam tenatively replies, suddenly unsure of whom she's addressing, "I don't remember any of it, healer? Noble lady? The last thing I remember is trying to determine just how badly Roland had been injured and if there was a better position to put him in." Gentle lines of warmth crease Rowena's cheeks and her head dips forward with an understanding nod. "You know not who I am, and for that the distance of ash and time are deemed responsible. You'd recognize my lettering more so than my eyes." Lowering the hood now that feeling has returned to her ears, Rowena bends into a crouch alongside the bed and takes up one of Chaori's hands in her own for examination. "It was my decree you passed through the realm during the time of plague. And you so graciously traveled the realm, took care of the recovering Chancellor in my stead. I do apologize for the short notice." Glancing upwards with a knowing gleam in her eye, she releases the hand and reaches for the other. Chaori Balsam lets her take both hands. The hand muscles are atrophied, but may well recover with food and exercise. Chaori's pulse is steady and strong. "Royal Healer?" Chaori tries to sit up and reels back onto her pillow after a minute. "I'm terribly sorry I misaddressed you, Your Grace. Plagues don't give notice. I was hoping to welcome you back and explain how your patients did, but you never came." Bending her thumb to watch the shrunken muscle flex, Rowena draws her lips into a solemn line, gaze occupied with her work. "The boat I boarded to venture into the Wildlands returned to Fastheld many weeks before I. There were four of us that returned on foot. Wildlings and predators aside, it was a safe journey. And much has transpired since then." The hand is returned to its mate. "The realm today is not as you last remember it. The throne, the armies, the taxes, the Shadow, the people. All has changed." Chaori Balsam blinks furiously in obvious confusion. "No wonder the nurse didn't want to answer my questions. I remember desperately wishing you would return with the Prince, Your Grace, as much to stop a civil war as to be able to hand back your patients. What has happened?" "The realm is at peace, Mistress Balsam. The throne is no longer occupied by a Kahar....directly, that is. The sovereign Prince has puppeted a number of Imperial Decrees through Zolor's hands thus far, adding his own signature to the notices of change sent throughout the towns. Zolor Zahir shall sit upon the throne until Talus' son comes of age. But you will learn all these things in time. For now, I bid you to eat a diet increasingly fortified with bread and stew and exercise as the healers lead you." Standing, Rowena removes the cloak from her shoulders and folds it loosely alongside the sheath. Chaori Balsam meekly murmurs, "Yes, Royal Healer." She adds after a moment's pause, "Did you want me to tell you about your patients?" "If you wish," Rowena offers, slowly bending to sit back on the free cot. Her leg muscles groan in protest. "But I have a tiny suspicion that I've already been in correspondance with them since you became...indisposed. A topic I would like to discuss in great length when you've returned more to your feet is the plague. But there is no hurry." She grunts, straining forward then to adjust the lacing of her left boot. "And please...m'lady will do just fine." A small wink punctuates her sentence before she renews the apparent battle with the boot lace. Chaori Balsam replies, "Yes, m'lady. I don't feel tired yet. What would you like to know about the plague?" "Everything." Unfolding her frame back to her feet, Rowena bestows the woman with a sympathetic smile. "I know it must have been a difficult time for you. I believe it's best we speak in depth on it when you are more well. And when I've not a fortune's worth of glass and gemstone awaiting safe passage back to Light's Reach." She plucks her cloak and sheath back from the cot. "I chose to linger a bit when I heard you'd awoken...and now I see that all is well." Arms full of her 'effects', she stoops briefly to a knee. "If you've any questions about what shifts the realm has encountered in the meantime, I'll be sure to give the 'others' here orders to supply you with such information." Chaori Balsam replies, "Thank you, m'lady. I'll take you up on that offer. Safe journey to you." She then closes her eyes and tries to sleep. ---- ''Return to Season 4 (2006) Category:Logs